


Holstered

by WindwiseWords



Series: Xenogen City [11]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Altered Mental States, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, Implied Relationships, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mention of Spark Sex, Possible Unhealthy Relationships, Teacher-Student Relationship, Therapy, Transformers Spark Bonds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-21
Updated: 2016-10-21
Packaged: 2018-08-23 18:40:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8338453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WindwiseWords/pseuds/WindwiseWords
Summary: Pistol-Whip and Gunner have a strange codependency. Can Rung figure this mental case out? Is it healthy or not? With care for the energetic student in mind, Rung sets out to find the answer.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Adding in two OC characters here. If their names are other Transformers' names I'm sorry. I tried to double and triple check on the names but there's always a chance, so making it clear: Original Characters, not intended to mimic or be akin to any others. 
> 
> I swear to Primus I'm not on Adderall guys, I just write a LOT. There will be several OCs in Xenogen, there will be OC/Real character pairings, and there will be backstory to each of them. 
> 
> I'd like a small vote: If you'd like to see a bit more on Pistol-Whip, leave a comment with the word Pineapple at the beginning. If you want to see more from Gunner's perspective, the vote word is Grapefruit. I swear if you put both in I will math the hell out of that and show you why they cancel out.

Rung walked holding the hand of a bouncy and nervous therapist. The bot was young, much younger than the orange therapist, but his skill with patients and inner knowledge of the processor made him double-trouble when dealing with Whirl or Vortex, or the occasional time a different ‘con came for help.

But today Rung walked with his flouncy apprentice, just pleased the bot placed enough trust in him to hold his hand.

Pistol-Whip never explained his name, only stating that Gunner was his holster and the pair was unstoppable together.

Said ‘Gunner’ was a common problem in Xenogen. Seven total wall breaches recorded, six of them by Gunner’s bombs. The engineer on paper was the picture of mental health, but Pistol-Whip explained that the damage sat in manipulation of the hard coding, the root of every Cybertronian.

Due to the complications, Gunner resided in the Maximum Security. The name played on its warden’s name, Fortress Maximus guarding the singular entrance. His foot itself was the door. Rung waved pleasantly, pleased as Fort Max asked for an identification before allowing them in. He took his job seriously, and that meant his self-esteem shot up over the weeks.

Two months after Xenogen cut the ribbon—a silly human ceremony but Optimus insisted on following their traditions—the pair of bots served to answer many prayers to Primus. Gunner, a brilliant engineer and weapon tech, helped Red Alert set up his turrets and security fields. And Pistol-Whip, as young as he was, served on the first day of arrival to neurologically restrain Whirl from ripping apart Vortex with a simple technique of manipulating his sensor net with delicate needled fingers.

They were neutral, leaning more toward the Autobot way of things, however Gunner’s history proved Decepticon. A sleeper agent, prone to manipulations of thoughts and bouts of extraordinary strength and intelligent aggression. But when sane, Gunner was a nervous but friendly bot comparable to some mix of First Aid and Red Alert.

“You think he’s waiting?” Pistol-Whip inquired quietly as they walked down to the containment cells.

Rung laughed lightly and adjusted his glasses with a free hand. “If what you tell me of him is true, I’m sure he’s already at the door.” Rung agreed to come on one of the daily visits, previously refusing since the pair rarely got any alone time. A scarce two hours every twenty four. Even Fort Max requested to extend the visit but Prowl and Red Alert chorused a rousing ‘no’ to that. Too many holes in the walls, too much clean up, and too much a threat.

A soft click as the security door closed behind them, and a second as Gunner’s cell opened. He stepped out with wary curiosity before grinning brightly. “Pistol!” He ran over and Rung stepped away to look on as they embraced and nuzzled each other. Their relationship unclear, Rung glanced away politely assuming it a private moment. “Hello… You must be Rung. Fortress Maximus told me about you. He comes to chat sometimes.”

The Max Security, made with Max in mind, was huge, and could fit many bots his size. Each cell was a full living space, intended for bots that were suicidal or as in Gunner’s case, critically mentally ill.

“Yes, hello. I’ve been overseeing Pistol-Whip’s training and advancement in his field. He’s progressing very well. How are you today?” He tried to drop the therapist voice for a less professional tone but it stuck.

Gunner just grinned nervously and shrugged. “They took the padding off the walls so they’re convinced now I’m not self-harming. That’s good.” Pistol-Whip stuck to his side like glue. “I hope my little Pistol isn’t misfiring too much… Isn’t messing up.”

“Oh no! He’s a credit to both the Psychiatric Sector and Medical Sector. And very well behaved.” Rung laughed, adjusting his glasses again. “And not to mention, he’s taken a shine to my model ships. I was told you enjoy models of all kinds.”

Gunner’s eyes lightened and Pistol winked. “We’ve been trying to get a motion filed to allow you to have more than a data pad. You wouldn’t get to keep the ships, but I could put them in our place.” This wasn’t Gunner’s home, Pistol’s apartment was Gunner’s home. Interesting to Rung, when Gunner not once set foot in the tidy apartment.

“I can’t wait to see what you painted the place with. You do love your colors!” And Gunner moved to nestle into the neck of the bot, a blue neck guard sitting atop sea green shoulders and below that a dark blue torso. Pistol loved blues and greens, layered in much the same on his legs with light blue pointed knee guards. Probably some form of Altihexian, some build similar to the feisty Mad Doctor, Knock Out.

Gunner on the other hand was mute white, with red and dark grey accents along the inside of his arms and knees. A grounder as well, stocky-built and at least twenty feet of solidly built metal armor. A warrior that lay down his gun and picked up a Pistol.

Fort Max had talked to his inmate, and learned Gunner depended on Pistol for his mental health. When Rung stated it to be unhealthy codependence, Max made a point that he needed Rung some nights when nightmares plagued him. Rung rewrote the relationship as undecided.

Rung watched the two chatter away, catching up with Pistol doing most of the talking. Rung would comment occasionally or respond to a question, but other than that he observed, in his nature to study rather than participate.

The two hours passed too quickly for the pair, and for the last ten minutes Rung left them alone to nestle and hug each other. Gunner held tears, while Pistol-Whip was a sobbing mess. He remained glassy-eyed all the way back to the Psychiatric Sector.

“You know you get to see him tomarrow.” Rung reminded gently.

“Yes, but it never makes leaving him alone in that cold cell any easier. He’s got really thick armor Rung, but he gets cold… So cold when he’s alone.”

Rung paused, staring at his apprentice with the stare that made him freeze and stay perfectly still. Rung was assessing a treatment plan. Without a word Rung opened his private office and stepped inside, sitting down in his chair while Pistol-Whip lay down on the couch. A cloth was offered and Pistol wiped his eyes, folding it and laying it on his chest before folding his hands in a tent over it. The needles in the tip of each slender finger darted out, tapping on his armor as he waited for the question while Rung waited for an answer. Rung relented first.

“I never pried on either of your pasts beyond security measures.”

“Yes, Rung.” Pistol-Whip agreed, shifting a bit. He was curious of their pasts?

“But I really would like to know where you two stand in the present. Because what I saw today was somewhere between a pair of lovesick fluttering seekers, and longtime sparkbonds.” Rung waited patiently as Pistol-Whip formulated a response.

“I think that’s a great way to put it. He’s been there for me for ages. We met up before the war and managed to avoid it… Until he left one day and didn’t come home quite the same. We lived with my creators for some time, and they were always accepting though they thought he was below my standards.” Rung nodded empathetically, understanding he was of a higher-class background. “But he got this new job and ever since the episodes have been happening. It never happened around us. He never hurt me or my kin, or any civilians for that matter. We spent the war running around and trapping Autobot shipments, blocking transmissions. By we, I meant him. I tried hard to stop him and succeeded sometimes. But when he gets in that mode he’s almost impossible to stop.”

“Do you consider yourself bonded?” Rung smiled gently at the shy nod. “Does he?”

“Yea. But we never really talk about it. We just seem to be on the same page. Maybe it is codependency—yea I can read my own chart, Doc Rung—but is it so unhealthy to also build off of that? We have a strong relationship. You saw that today. If I could change one thing…” He predicted Rung’s question, so used to the way Rung did things that he had it down to memory. Unlike others that figured out the pattern, Pistol-Whip used it to further a session rather than dodge questions. “He’s so guilty, Rung. Guilty for dragging me away from my creators for his job, guilty for putting me into the war, and really guilty that he can’t be there for me when I try hard to be there for him.”

Rung began to take notes. “This guilt, do you feel it too? Perhaps guilty for being the supposed caused of his own guilt?”

Pistol-Whip thought hard, delicately assessing himself. “I feel guilty that he’s locked up. If I could do more, if I can learn to hold a candle to your skill, if I can learn how to manipulate memory like Chromedome, then maybe I can fix him. And we can start a normal life together like all the other bonds. We’re holding back. Each other fears one will leave.”

“Fears or fears the idea of? Let me be perfectly honest, I don’t think either of you could survive a full twenty four hours without the other.”

“We can but it’s not pretty. And I’m no Gunner but I could give Fort Max a run for his credit.” The confidence in that statement made Rung raise a brow. “I’m a lot stronger than most think. Partly why I never joined up. I don’t want to hurt, I wanted to help bots. To help Gunner. He does the slugging, I do the bot-fixing. It was always like that ‘til we got here.”

As Pistol-Whip bared his spark-felt feelings and emotions, he began to tear up. No more was said from either until sputtering fans calmed down. Rung gently moved to sit on the end of the couch and put a hand on his knee.

“I think without you his problems will worsen. You are his only true support system. The only bond stronger than a sparkbond is that of one’s creator to their sparkling.” Rung smiled and raised a brow as Pistol shyly looked away. “Oh? Have you two thought of such things?”

Friendly now, not an examination question. Purly curiosity; it made Pistol-Whip relax. “We talked about it before. But we’re not even… We’ve never done a proper merge before.” Pistol mumbled softly. “I kind of wish we had bonded properly. I could talk with him through the barriers in the Max Security’s walls.” Bright purple optics met Rung’s and there was such a look of hopelessness and panic that Rung feared he’d have an anxiety attack. But Pistol calmed down and smiled sadly. “I just want Gunner back, Doc Rung. Or at least some more time with him. Or… I’d even stay in the prison with him. I just need my Gunner back. What’s—“

“What’s a Pistol without a holster, I know.” Rung squeezed his knee gently and patted it soothingly. “Pistol is a lot of things without his holster. But I think this goes beyond a self-doubt. I’ve treated bots separated from their bond, official or not. It’s painful to treat, for patient and therapist.” Part of the reason Rung was glad he never formed that close a bond with anyone. Whirl was on the line of friend some days, Fort Max more a guardian, and Pistol an apprentice. Or as the whispers said, like a mini-Rung sparkling. “I think we could make a case for you staying in the prison. He’s never directly aggressed on any bots, only walls that were entirely out of civilian or guard range.”

“We worked on that over the years. He can direct it away from any life forms, put the impulse code onto something of equal value. We agreed he’d never tell me what the original impulse was or if there was one.” Pistol sat up and smiled brightly. “But he tells me I’m priceless. So I’m safe.”

Pistol’s confidence was something Rung learned to trust. If Pistol said it was going to rain, it always did. If Whirl was going to need an extra dose of medication, he always did. And if Pistol said that he would be okay staying with Gunner, he would be. Fort Max was always a yell away anyways, and Pistol wasn’t defenseless.

Rung stood up and went to sit at his desk, summoning a blank datapad through the wall slot and started a formal report. “Well then I’ll get started this instance. You go run along and start your packing then.” Pistol, foot out the door, turned and smiled fondly at Rung once before running off. Rung adjusted his glasses and chuckled to himself. Such passion for another, co-dependency or not, was healthy for sparkbonds that were officially bonded. Rung began to wonder the legitimacy of the sacred act that his student and his student’s partner seemed to have grown out of love itself, no sparks needed. Rung shook his head and tended to the report. Pistol needed help first. Rung finally fully understood why Pistol needed his holster, and decided to add to the report, that a Gunner needed his Pistol.


End file.
